The Prophecy
Book One
Karen MacLeod-Wilkie
Kindle Edition
Copyright 2020 by Karen MacLeod-Wilkie
[email protected]
Cover art (copyright) by Christina Gaudet http://castlekeepcreations.com/
All rights reserved
Kindle Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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To my husband, Paul Wilkie, who led me into the world of reading science fantasy. As I have explored my dreams through the years, your constant support has given me courage to step into the unknown. I love you!
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Acknowledgements
On so many evenings, Paul arrived home to my stunned exclamation: “Is it suppertime already?!” Thank you for patiently taking care of me when I was lost in another world.
Julia, my idea-bouncing board, Suzanne, my encourager, and Nicholas, my tech rescuer—you three are the best!
The listening ears of my close friends and the helpful feedback of extended family gave a much more interesting shape to this book. I truly value each one of you in my life.
My church family has been so supportive. Even as I move out of congregational ministry to full-time writing and we face the sadness of goodbye, your encouragement continues to be deeply appreciated.
Any creative skill takes time and practice to develop. Thank you to Maeve O’Connell, my editor, for your critical yet kind eye that guided me to see what didn’t fit and what needed further development. Thank you to Patti Larsen, supportive coach and helpful mentor. Christiana Gallant, your creative eye knew exactly how to translate my words into a wonderful cover design.
My early introduction to science fantasy was through writers like David Eddings, Piers Anthony, Guy Gavriel Kay, and Tamora Pierce. They drew me into their alternative worlds with delightful characters. Thank you for teaching me how to let my imagination roam.
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Prologue
Evander’s small hand was held firmly yet tenderly within his great-grandfather’s wide grip. The five-year-old’s mouth moved as fast as his feet, as he struggled to keep up with the older man’s long stride on their way home from the sun worship ceremony.
“Great-Grandfather, why did you lead the ceremony?”
The elder fairy smiled at the curious young boy. “I’m a priest of Azran, little one, like your father and his father before him. When I came to visit you, they invited me to lead today’s ceremony.”
“But why do we need the ceremony?”
“It renews our energy. You know the teaching.”
“Yeah. Fairies’ wings store energy from the sun and moon to power our magical gifts and help us fly.” Evander impatiently kicked a stone toward the ditch. “When will I get my wings? Will I be a priest too?”
“Time will tell, Evander. Time will tell.”
“Did you know Azran, Great-Grandfather?”
A chuckle rumbled from the elder’s chest.
“I may be one-hundred-and-twenty, but I’m not that old. Azran led the fairies to this world three hundred years ago.”
“Was he old like you? Why did he come here?”
“Why don’t we sit a spell, and I’ll tell you.”
The elder fairy led the way to a park bench and the boy eagerly plopped on the grass before him.
“Four hundred years ago, all creatures lived in harmony on a world known as Earth. Fairies, like us, lived on islands and in forests, in happy relationship with the land. Their families were small. Children were greatly treasured. Another race, called humans, preferred towns and cities. They had large families. Some fairies and humans had dealings with one another, but mostly they lived apart.”
“Are humans like us?”
“They look like us, except they don’t have wings and pointed ears. Both fairies and humans grow to different sizes and can have varied skin and hair coloring. We all like to eat, drink, and make love. But fairies usually live much longer—a few live as long as two hundred years.”
Evander squirmed on the grass, “Why?”
“Because we learn to balance and renew our energy, storing it in our wings. Our magic helps us too.”
“Humans aren’t magical?”
“No. Their ability is with their minds. Unfortunately, jealousy and fear of fairies was rooted in their hearts. The human population expanded. They began to tear down our forests and take over our islands.”
“What happened to the fairies?”
“Some were captured, some killed. Many tried to hide. It was a dangerous time.”
Evander shivered.
“The fairies were guided by King Cian whose magical gift was to bring light to the fairy stone and wisdom to his people.”
“What did he do?”
“He started the Protector’s Force to guard and protect the fairy population.”
“Fairies aren’t supposed to hurt others!”
“You’re right. It goes against our nature and quickly depletes our energy. The Protector’s Force did all they could to protect our fairies without harming the humans, but if attacked they had to respond. A hundred years passed since the strife began. There weren’t many safe places left for fairies to live, so King Cian spoke with his personal priest….”
“Azran! It was Azran!” Evander clapped his hands together in excitement.
His great-grandfather ruffled Evander’s hair affectionately. “You’re right, little one. It was Azran—a fairy born with a magical ability not seen before. He could open portals between Earth and other worlds. He and King Cian sought a safe new world for fairies. They found a place uninhabited by other races. It became known as the Fairy Realm.”
“That’s where we live.”
“It is indeed.”
“Can you open portals? Have you been to the human world, Great-Grandfather?”
“So many questions!” The older fairy stretched his legs out before him. “Yes, all Azran’s priests can open the portal. Some are chosen to guard it. Many lead ceremonies in their towns or villages. Every ten years, one is selected to cross over to the Earth, as I did many years ago.”
“I want to go, just like you.”
“Who knows where your magic will take you, little one? Be patient. Your time will come.”
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The Summoning
Brigid briskly swished her broom over the floor of her modest-sized cottage in the fairy town of Muirstead where she was a healer. The final clients of the day had left, so the dust and grime they’d deposited on her floor could now be removed. With each stroke of her broom, Brigid felt her mind clearing as well.
Although magical beings, fairies were not exempt from illness or accident or age-related issues, but they generally healed rapidly.
It had been a long day: broken femur, set; six-year-old’s traumatized brain effectively soothed using mind-calming technique; clogged arteries, cleared; young Jacey’s dating woes listened to with little patience; allergies identified as cause of irritating cough (Brigid had tactfully, yet firmly, proposed the elder should abstain from her favorite heavy perfumes).
The healing flame that was Brigid’s birthright seemed at a low ebb recently. Even the golden flecks that glimmered in her green eyes were dull. She released her thick brown hair from the clasp on the crown of her head. As it tumbled onto her shoulders, the firelight caught th
e natural golden highlights that threaded through her heavy locks. Brigid rubbed her fingers firmly into her scalp to relieve the tension and tiredness that throbbed there. She had missed the last moon ceremony because she was assisting a woman with a difficult birthing. It had been cloudy for days and her energy was depleted.
New moon ceremonies were her favorite gathering time; these were fairy rituals which focused on new beginnings. Ritual bathing focused intentions for the next month. Dancing before a sacred fire, wings unfurled, expressed hope. Full moon ceremonies were more reflective, when fairies considered what was getting in the way of their dreams. Naming those blocks in the light of the moon and chanting songs of release brought renewed energy. Brigid felt it had been a long time since new ideas had seeded within her. She continued to recommit to sharing her magical healing gifts, but the routine of it all was weighing her down. Would the next hundred years bring more of the same?
Brigid came from a long line of fairy healers. Her mother, Galena—also brown-haired and green-eyed—had a mind-calming magical gift. She worked as a counsellor. Iason, her father, was golden in color—skin, hair, and eyes—, an inheritance from his mother. His magical healing ability gave him sight into the network of a person’s cells, to discern necessary repairs. He was medically trained in treatment options. Brigid’s grandmother, Gilda, had golden hair with a tinge of grey. Gilda’s hands emitted a golden healing light when placed upon another’s body. For as far back as they could trace in the town’s historical records, generations of her family had provided a healing practice for the fairies of Muirstead.
Childhood had been normal for Brigid, until she turned four years old. Her parents gave her a puppy as a birthday gift—a black lab and collie mix. She delightedly played with the little creature who tumbled after her. Brigid also learned to feed and water him. Her mom helped her pick the name “Scampie”; he scampered after her and anything that moved. Scampie sent Brigid into fits of giggles with his antics, especially when his puppy legs got away from him. In the middle of a chase, he’d stop, and his hind end would keep going; sometimes the result was an awkward somersault. Before long, Brigid and Scampie were inseparable.
One day, the puppy scampered into the woods, chasing a field mouse, and Brigid followed. She weaved between the trees and jumped puddles, not paying attention to Scampie until she heard a loud yelp. She scurried forward to see her beloved but clumsy friend tumbling over the steep cliff at the end of their property. Brigid had been warned to stay away from the cliff, but she had to find her dog. Her heart lurched as she stepped to the edge and peered over; Scampie lay in a crumpled heap on the ground below.
Brigid knew that she had to get to Scampie. She had to find a way. There was nothing but a drop where Scampie had tumbled over. Brigid’s eyes anxiously scanned the terrain as she walked the cliff edge. Suddenly, she saw a narrow gap opening onto a rocky track that led down the cliff. Brigid urgently crept along the track, mindless of any danger to herself. Rocks and scree tumbled from the path as she scrambled downward. Her small hands grasped at briars and roots to prevent herself from falling. Blood dripped from the scrapes on her hands. Finally, she was at the bottom and Scampie was within reach. Her young mind was frantic. What should she do?
Brigid remembered her father and grandmother placing their hands on people to help them. She wanted to help Scampie. Brigid gently reached out to touch the puppy. Immediately, she felt Scampie’s pain. Her senses discerned the dog’s injuries. Love bubbled out of Brigid and, with it, a golden light. Brigid didn’t know what was happening; she just wanted Scampie to feel better. She held on as tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn’t notice the wings unfurling from her back—the sign of a fairy’s magical gift emerging. Slowly, the pain eased, and Brigid felt a slight movement under her hands. Scampie turned his head so he could lick her fingers. Brigid held on. A few minutes later, Scampie began to squirm, demanding release.
Then, Brigid heard frantic calls from above. Her mother demanded she stay put as her father flew down the cliffside. When he landed, he knelt in front of her, putting his hands gently on her shoulders.
“I see you have your wings, little one.”
“I do?”
Brigid looked over her shoulder in delight. Tiny iridescent wings extended from between her shoulder blades, pushing up and over her dress.
“Can you sense them as part of you?” he asked.
Brigid nodded.
“You’ll learn how to use them properly, but for now draw them in. Stretched out wings will tire you. Let them fold back inside you. Watch as I show you.”
Iason crouched down again so she could watch him. Iason let his wings unfurl, then reversed the direction so his wings curled back under his shoulders. “You’ve seen me do this before. You can do it too.”
Brigid looked at her wings. She frowned in concentration. Nothing happened. Discouraged, she looked up into her father’s face.
“It’s okay. It takes practice,” he said.
He took her hand and placed it on his shoulder.
“Feel the movement. Feel inside me—how my wings are connected to me, how they move.”
Twice more Iason unfurled and reset his wings.
Finally, Brigid said, “I can do it.” She took her hand off her father’s shoulder and scrunched her face as she focused. A faint tremble shifted through her wings. Slowly, they folded and slid back under her shoulders. She smiled in triumph.
Iason scooped her into his arms and she hugged him tightly.
“Now you can tell me why you’re down here.”
“Scampie fell. He was hurt,” she sobbed into her father’s chest as she remembered her friend’s pain. Before Iason could speak again, she shared, “I helped him, just like you and Grandma.”
“Did you now? Let me have a look.”
The puppy darted around them. Iason set her gently down and reached for Scampie. His face became serious, as it did when he was looking inside people. It didn’t take long, which was good, because Scampie was eager to move.
“You did very well, Brigid,” said Iason as he calmly smoothed his hands over the puppy.
“I want to show Mommy.”
Iason kept Scampie firmly against his chest and wrapped his other arm around Brigid. She held on tightly and kept her head on his chest where she murmured quietly to Scampie. Slowly, they rose through the air to the top of the cliff.
When her father lowered to the ground, her mother embraced her. Brigid could feel her mother’s relief pouring over her body. Galena took Brigid’s hand. Her father held the ever more active puppy in his arms until they were safely home. Once inside, Brigid went to the cupboard where Scampie’s doggie biscuits were kept. She pulled out a treat for him as he gulped down two bowls of water. She was so glad her friend was okay. She heard little of what her parents were saying as she gave Scampie his treat and played with him on the floor.
“Two fractures which were knitted together, a sealed lung puncture, residual concussion, and tremendous bruising in the latter healing stages.” Iason lowered his voice. “The dog was near death, Galena. She healed him, with no magical training.”
He took a deep breath before continuing. “Galena, her wings emerged.”
“So early! I’ve sensed great potential within her.”
“She used all of the family healing gifts, not just one.”
“I wonder what that means?” said Galena as she glanced anxiously at their oblivious daughter. “The incident must have incited an early release of her gift. Training will have to begin.” Galena sighed as she folded dish clothes and stowed them in a drawer.
From that time onward, Brigid was trained in the use of her wings and her magic. While other fairy children spent their childhood years in play, Brigid learned how to store energy. Wings were unfurled during daily meditation for exposure to the sun. She attended moon worship ceremonies. Brigid was taught how to fly, but she was cautioned that flying would quickly drain energy which would then limit the use of he
r magical healing gift. When she grew older, she learned about expanding energy when making love.
Brigid’s life became dedicated to learning and practicing the healing arts. Scampie grew along with her and was often the target of Brigid’s practice efforts—when he chewed on dead animals and had an upset stomach, or bruised his teeth trying to fetch a stone.
Initially, her training was at home, after school; she attended the local fairy school to learn reading, writing, and arithmetic. Galena taught her meditation to focus her mind. Her grandmother guided her skills in directing energy with intention. Iason helped Brigid in the art of seeing into the body.
During her teenage years, her studies had greater breadth. She was sent deep into the forest at age thirteen to spend three years with a group of teaching elders to learn herbology, biology, anatomy, neuroanatomy, physiology, and psychology. The elders had advanced well into their second century. Their knowledge had amassed over time. They taught Brigid how to hone her skills. No other youth went with her. She was the only healer in her generation within her own and nearby villages. Her younger brother, Asa, was only five when she left home. Thankfully, Scampie went with her. He faithfully listened to her as she poured out her young heart and delightedly played catch with her whenever there was time. Brigid soaked up all she could from the elders. They were kind to her, but she had no opportunity to develop friendships with others her age.
By the time Brigid returned to her community, she felt like an outsider. Many of her childhood friends were dating. Some had just come into their wings and magical gifts. They were focused on skill development and formed circles of support with those who shared similar abilities. Brigid felt very alone. Her peers were respectful, but no one invited her to their homes—they felt intimidated by her learning and the extent of her power. There was no common history because she’d been away for so long. To top it off, Brigid was tall with a sturdy build like her father’s; she didn’t have the petite curvy slenderness of many female fairies, which made her feel even more awkward around the teens her age.
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